


Tratyc

by fakebodies



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Death, HOOOOOO BOY, M/M, This is so angsty, death and sadness, i have so many bad ideas and all of them revolve around angsty darthfett, just death really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 03:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6102658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakebodies/pseuds/fakebodies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tratyc: "In a state of collapse"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tratyc

Boba had no idea how it all came to this. They were happy, once. He’d seen Vader smile, heard him laugh. He’d thought things would be okay, for once. He’d thought he wouldn’t lose another loved one.

Boba knows he’s bleeding, and he can feel that his ribs are broken with every shuddering breath. He doesn’t know what to do. He feels so useless, so alone, and he hates it. He felt so at home with Vader before, when they’d been safe.

He remembers urging Vader to leave with him. They’d take missions together, Vader traveling with Boba to check up on leads or Boba going as backup for Vader’s own missions from the Emperor. Boba had heard Vader talk about the wrinkled old fuck, and he couldn’t help the hatred that formed. Vader had never wanted to leave, though, despite everything Sidious had done.

Boba wishes he’d pushed harder, done something more. If they’d left, this never would’ve happened. Boba could’ve protected Vader from being hurt. He had loved Vader so much, and it had all come to this.

He barely registers Vader’s voice, catching fragments of words. He hears “traitor,” “death,” “disgrace.” Boba doesn’t acknowledge them, using the last of his strength to reach out, fingers straining. He manages to brush the black plastisteel cheek of Vader’s mask, smiling weakly.

He vaguely wonders if his teeth are as coated with blood as his shirt. The invisible grip around his throat lessens only a fraction, and Boba takes a shallow, painful breath. He does his best to keep his fingers on Vader’s mask even as his arm shudders with the effort.

“Cyar’ika, ni-”

Bones grind together and the words turn into a sickening gurgle as Boba’s throat is crushed. His fingers drop from the cheek of the mask and his body drops to the floor with a thud. When Vader walks away, he does not look back.


End file.
